Three Lives: A Biography of Stefan Zweig (23 page)

The work was dedicated to Friderike, who had shared with him all the pains and travails of its genesis. The printed text carried the dedication “To Friederike [
sic
] Maria von Winternitz, in profound gratitude”, and underneath was the legend “Easter 1915–Easter 1917”. But the clean copy of the manuscript (since lost) which he gave to her, and later had bound in leather, included a poem on the first page, of which the following two stanzas are known:

While weapons bristled on every side

And fire raged through our world,

What of mine remained, but a small garden

And in it you, my love and my companion.

My work blossomed in your tender care,

How oft I wearied and grew faint,

But always you gave me new heart.

To begin, then, I thankfully inscribe your name.
²⁸

When the book was finally ready for the press at the end of August, Anton Kippenberg seems to have been out of reach for some time: the word from Insel was that the printers, unfortunately, did not yet have the go-ahead from the management. Already in a state of considerable agitation, Zweig, understandably concerned that there might be problems with printing and distribution in wartime, showered Leipzig with messages over the next few weeks. He began with a telegram urging Insel to start printing two thousand copies immediately on his responsibility, since the book would soon be reviewed by all the major newspapers. He followed this up with a letter: “It goes without saying that the first two editions will quickly be sold out, and I am anxious that this, my latest and best book, should not be out of stock in the bookshops
for a single week
. I must absolutely insist on this.”
²⁹
Shortly afterwards he was greatly relieved to learn that the first edition had now been printed and bound; but at the same time not a single copy was on sale in the bookshops. So he began his next letter: “Dear Sirs, my daily letter of complaint”, and reported that
Jeremias
, despite excellent reviews in several major newspapers, was not yet available in the bookshops in Vienna. And he had learnt that a similar fiasco was likely to occur in Berlin. After
a sleepless night, which would be followed by another day with no book deliveries, he fired off a telegram: “jeremias still not in vienna bookshops incomprehensible to me and all at least send some advance copies delay could be disastrous for book stefan zweig”.
³⁰
The suspense was not over yet. The first deliveries had left the warehouse more than a week earlier, and they took another nine days to reach Vienna. He confirmed their arrival with great relief in a postcard to Leipzig.

His nervous agitation during those weeks was not solely due to the long wait for the finished book. In the meantime Zweig had been called for another army medical, and the risk of being conscripted for front-line service was as great as ever. Rather than wait around for possible bad news, in early September he had submitted a request to his superiors for service leave, which he planned to spend in Switzerland for the purpose of helping Austria’s propaganda efforts. The Foreign Office (where Friderike’s former father-in-law also worked) had already notified the War Archive that it would very much like to see Zweig undertake a lecture tour of Switzerland, talking on the subject of “Viennese art and culture”. The view in senior government circles now was that it was time to signal clearly to other countries that Austria no longer supported Germany’s war aims. So this was an opportune moment to send out ambassadors for a peace-loving nation of culture. And in October the renowned Hottingen reading circle in Zurich enquired whether the writers Paul Stefan, Franz Werfel and Stefan Zweig might be free to give readings. In principle, therefore, the chances of securing an exit permit to travel to Switzerland were quite good, but the decision, unsurprisingly, was dragged out over many anxious weeks.

But there was even more excitement to deal with. In a newspaper advertisement Friderike and Stefan had read about a grand country house for sale in Salzburg, which must have seemed almost like a sign from destiny. When the description of the property sounded uncannily like the house they had stumbled across the year before, Friderike travelled to Salzburg for a viewing, with a signed power of attorney in her bag so that she could negotiate with the vendor in Stefan’s name if necessary. It turned out that the property for sale was indeed their fairy-tale castle, though its condition left much to be desired—there was no electricity and water was dripping from the leaking roofs.

Undeterred, Friderike saw this as a great opportunity to put her shared future with Stefan onto a more solid foundation, and the practical side of her nature now came into play:

I arranged a meeting with the handful of neighbours and we got together to send a petition to the city council about installing street lighting, which was duly granted. I then called in some experts and finally entered into a preliminary contract with a reputable builder, who undertook to carry out the repairs within a specified period of time. I returned to Vienna a few days later with assurances from the city council and detailed estimates from the builder, whereupon Stefan, without having looked round the house himself, happily signed the purchase agreement.
³¹

This took place on 27th October 1917. The house and grounds, nearly eight thousand square metres in extent, now belonged to Zweig, reducing his savings by 90,000 Austrian
kronen
and leaving them much diminished in consequence. On the other hand investing his money in property was no bad idea in these turbulent and uncertain times. Soon afterwards Stefan and Friderike went to look around the house together, though they would probably not be able to move in until peace eventually returned.

The next item on his agenda was the trip to Switzerland, which had now been formally approved. In the meantime
Jeremias
had been accepted for its premiere at the Schauspielhaus in Zurich, and Friderike had been able to organise a passport for herself with assistance from her former father-in-law. She was travelling in her official capacity as a delegate of the General Austrian Women’s Association to prepare for a peace congress. On 13th November they crossed the Austrian border heading west. In two months’ time ‘titular sergeant’ Stefan Zweig would be back in Vienna and behind his desk in Room 535 at the War Archive in the Stiftskaserne barracks. Or so it had been agreed.

NOTES

1
2nd August 1914, Zweig GW Tagebücher, p 82.

2
Zweig 1922, p 9.

3
Heimfahrt nach Österreich. In: Zweig GW Schlaflose Welt, p 28.

4
Ein Wort zu Deutschland. In: Zweig GW Schlaflose Welt, p 30.

5
4th August 1914, Zweig GW Tagebücher, p 84.

6
Stefan Zweig to Anton Kippenberg, 4th August 1914. In: Briefe II, p 13.

7
Stefan Zweig to Romain Rolland, 10th November 1914. In: Briefe II, p 29 f.

8
See the Austrian Army Register page for Stefan Zweig, reproduced in: Holl/Karlhuber/Renoldner 1993, p 63.

9
12th November 1914, Zweig GW Tagebücher, p 116.

10
23rd–30th November 1914, Zweig GW Tagebücher, p 119.

11
1st December 1914, Zweig GW Tagebücher, p 120.

12
Kraus 1986, p 337 f.

13
Stefan Zweig to Insel Verlag, January 1915, GSA Weimar, 50/3886, 2.

14
Stefan Zweig to Insel Verlag, 29th January 1915, GSA Weimar, 50/3886, 2.

15
Insel Verlag to Stefan Zweig, 2nd February 1915, GSA Weimar, 50/3886, 2.

16
14th July 1915, Zweig GW Tagebücher, p 185.

17
15th July 1915, Zweig GW Tagebücher, p 186 ff.

18
16th July 1915, Zweig GW Tagebücher, p 193 f.

19
Hugo von Hofmannsthal to Anton Kippenberg, 22nd July 1915. In: Briefwechsel Hofmannsthal/Insel Verlag, column 578.

20
Stefan Zweig to Hans Feigl, undated, probably mid-1915, WSLB Vienna, HIN 129.334.

21
Zweig F 1964, p 49.

22
Zweig F 1964, p 53.

23
Zweig GW Verhaeren, p 310.

24
Stefan Zweig to Gerhart Hauptmann, 12th January 1917, SBB Berlin, Hauptmann literary estate.

25
Zweig F 1964, p 64.

26
Zweig F 1964, p 70.

27
Stefan Zweig to an unknown man, early 1917, ZB Zurich, Ms. Briefe: Zweig.

28
Zweig F 1964, p 80.

29
Stefan Zweig to Insel Verlag, 15th September 1917, GSA Weimar, 50/3886, 2.

30
Stefan Zweig to Insel Verlag, 20th September 1917, GSA Weimar, 50/3886, 2.

31
Zweig F 1947, p 128.

Theatre ticket for the first performance of Stefan Zweig’s
Jeremias

At the Top of the Tower

Strange: what people see from afar as freedom in Switzerland looks quite different when you are here. They are stuck at the top of the tower, so to speak, isolated, cut off, somehow lost. This too is a prison, this narrow piece of land. There’s a touch of Robinson Crusoe about their intellectual life.
¹

Diary 16th November 1917

A
ND SO TO SWITZERLAND.
In 1906 the thought of visiting Austria’s neighbour had prompted unfriendly comment from Zweig. He wrote then that he “hated, despised, loathed” the country, which was “metropolitan, panoramic, like England and Berlin”.
²
Now on the eve of his visit he had published an article in
Donauland
just a few weeks earlier, entitled
Die Schweiz als Hilfsland Europas
[
Switzerland as Europe’s Refuge
], in which he praised the moral and humanitarian work done by the small country and its tiny population on behalf of the many war refugees. But it remained to be seen whether or not Switzerland could become a refuge for him too.

There was certainly much to look forward to. The threat of being called up for front-line service was at least temporarily averted; his new play, which had cost so much effort to complete, was about to be premiered here; he had a house waiting for him (which could be turned into ready cash if need be) when peace finally returned; and in a few days he would be seeing Romain Rolland again, who had been such an important correspondent for him in the last few years. Zweig’s visit to his friend in Villeneuve on Lake Geneva had been arranged for a long time, and he had mentioned that he would be bringing Friderike with him, whom Rolland had already met in Paris. She was now his wife, as he wrote in a letter—only not in the eyes of the law in Austria.

Before Stefan and Friderike went to visit Rolland they spent a few days in Zurich, staying at the Hotel Schwert. Zweig had not arrived in euphoric mood anyway, but his first impressions of the new freedom seem to have brought him swiftly down to earth. In the hotel, in the Café Odeon and elsewhere he spoke to revolutionaries, refugees and deserters, and very soon grew irritated by the mood he sensed in the country, which was
marked by a deep distrust between locals and newcomers—the latter, it turned out, made up in large part of ‘coffee-house pacifists’ with nothing practical to contribute. After visiting the “club of the Hottingen reading circle”, Zweig gave free rein to his thoughts in his diary:

A whole bunch of bearded men sitting at tables laid for dinner, among them Wedekind, reading aloud to a room at once attentive and bovine. I realise how ridiculous it would be to be a part of this, and fortunately no one approaches me. I cannot abide the unyielding, tight-lipped, coarse and tactless manner of these Swiss. I don’t expect warm embraces, just that little entrée in a conversation that encourages you to go on. I understand completely the hostile wariness that everyone feels here: they have all too often been on the receiving end of German tactlessness. But this blinkered, leaden attitude of mind is just breathtaking. It’s been a frightful revelation of the petit-bourgeois character of this country, this pygmy realm, their approach to art, too heavily laced with education and ideas of duty, their penny-pinching national self-awareness, their tedious clubs and associations [ … ]! I can understand how in this carping little coterie, where the staid versifiers read out their stuff to each other, the wind blowing through Europe feels like a nasty draught: but what ignominy, that we should have to descend to these depths. I cherish my pride, which refuses to give an inch to these hard-nosed fellows. I will not stoop so low: I choke on the very thought. Looking out on the glittering river Limmat in the evening with Frau Albert: a baffled sense of untold sadness, standing here at the pinnacle of Europe, while the sea of blood laps all around. I have to say that one can find a country a real ordeal, for all the chocolate and the leather boots.
³